American

On its own, Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269) makes for an incredible meal. But these sandwiches, made from the leftover pork, are so delicious that you may end up roasting the shoulder just to make them. We served the sandwiches at Spice Inc. for two years. I originally learned this recipe from my partner Regina Keever, but the recipe has since been taken over by Jane Ruppel, our beloved office manager and resident party monster, who prepares it for virtually every Bayona get-together, by request. The meat can be used in countless ways and is simply irresistible. The pickled cabbage, spicy Creole mustard, and pickles cut the richness of the pork.

This fabulous, herbaceous gumbo used to be primarily a meatless Lenten dish, served on Good Friday. It is a pretty rare find on menus these days, but if you should come across it, give it a try. It is a thinner, soupier gumbo than most, and you’ll be surprised how much flavor the greens impart to the broth. When I made it the first time, I thought of how wonderful oysters would taste with the herbs, so I decided to top it off with a few fried ones. You could still serve it during Lent, but don’t reserve this delicious gumbo for once a year.

One of the richest, creamiest soups around, bisque is traditionally a puree of seafood, rice, and cream. This luscious version is New Orleans’s eating at its finest. The elegant flavors call for little more than an equally impressive white wine to serve alongside this dish. The aromatic vegetables, tomatoes, tarragon, and liqueur make this recipe particularly distinctive.

Although I was not born in New Orleans—we moved here when I was six—I most definitely consider it my hometown. Even post-hurricanes, I am eternally grateful to my dad for deciding to make this simmering, sumptuous, gumbo-of-a-city our permanent home when he retired from the navy. What a happy circumstance for a food lover like me! Speaking of gumbo, I could eat it every day of the week. And you can’t claim to be a cook in Louisiana without having your own version of its most famous dish. While I have to say that Donald Link, the chef at Herbsaint, makes the best gumbo I have ever eaten, I’ve learned to make a pretty mean version myself. Here is one of the most basic. Feel free to substitute an equal amount of roasted chicken for the duck.

I remember a time when gazpacho became very trendy and was on every menu. I decided to come up with a different version—even with a different color. It was José Andrés of Jaleo in Washington, D.C., who made the best Spanish gazpacho I ever tasted, so I borrowed his technique of frying the bread in olive oil. The toasted flavor and richness of the fried bread helps mellow the acidity and round out the flavors of the other ingredients. The shellfish garnish is not necessary but makes the dish a little more elegant and sumptuous.

This silky concoction makes an elegant starter, or a light supper if paired with the Parisienne Bistro Crudité Plate (p. 102) or the Bayona House Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette (p. 95) and a warm baguette. Oysters and artichokes are another favorite New Orleans combination. For your convenience I’ve called for canned artichoke hearts, but if you’re feeling expansive (and industrious), use fresh artichoke hearts. Your efforts will be rewarded.

The Crescent City Farmer’s Market has had a huge impact on the quality of cooking and eating in New Orleans, and on my own life as well. Over the years it has grown from one location where you could get only bell peppers and tomatoes, one day a week, to four bustling locations (open four days a week) where you can buy anything from Creole cream cheese to colorful varieties of eggplant and Swiss chard, lemongrass, Thai basil, soft-shell crabs, tamales, hibiscus flowers, sweet potato pies, and mayhaw jelly! Happily, post-Katrina, the farmers are back, and this vital part of the community is still up and running. My only complaint is that I can’t just run in and grab what I need in a hurry. When I go, I spend at least an hour perusing produce, catching up with farmers, and socializing with all the other shoppers and chefs I know. The market is a modern-day village green. Of course, this is also what I love about it. If you’re lucky enough to have a real farmer’s market in your area (they’re sprouting up everywhere), be sure to seek it out. It’s bound to have the makings for this soothing and delicious chicken and vegetable soup, among other satisfying meals. Feel free to substitute local seasonal vegetables for any of the ones listed here.

This recipe came about much like the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial—“You got chocolate on my peanut butter,” etc. One day a long time ago, I had some peanut sauce left over from making pork satés, and I was in the process of putting together a cream of celery soup. I started thinking about how people have been known to eat celery sticks with peanut butter, so I swirled the rich sauce into the delicate soup. With a little extra garlic, chile paste, and soy sauce, the result was pretty darn tasty—and I’ve been making it ever since.

I belong to the growing cult who believe that celery is an underappreciated vegetable. Used raw, it has a juicy, nutty crispness that stands on its own with just a couple of other ingredients. When cooked, the flavor becomes deeper and richer, as it does in this soup. Don’t be fooled by the deceptively simple sound of this soup. This celadon puree is elegant and comforting, and can serve as the basis for more complex variations, such as adding leeks, asparagus, broccoli, or poached shredded chicken. Judicious seasoning is important, as salt will really round out the flavors. Croutons made from multigrain bread are the perfect garnish.

The secret to this soup, a luscious puree of caramelized garlic and onions thickened with French bread, is patience. I originally developed it at Savoir Faire. At the time I had a boyfriend who frequently traveled to Mexico. He would rave about sopa de ajo—a broth flavored with garlic and egg—and it sounded so earthy and scrumptious that I decided to try to make it. My approach to recipe development typically involves looking up several versions of a dish, then taking what I like from each of those recipes. That’s exactly how this soup was created. I trained with French chefs, so a puree leapt to mind. Then I read that in Latin countries soups are often thickened with bread. One version relied on fish stock, but I thought chicken stock would be more universally appealing. So I stirred all my ideas together, my mentor Daniel gave it his enthusiastic blessing, and my first true culinary creation was born. When we initially started making this soup, my dishwashers had to peel 10 pounds of garlic at a time. Thankfully, these days at Bayona, we buy peeled garlic by the gallon. In order to develop the proper deep, rich flavor, it’s essential to take your time cooking the garlic. You need to stir the mixture a lot over low heat and wait until the onions and garlic get very dark and caramelized. I love garnishing this soup with tiny croutons that provide a crunchy contrast to the silky body.

In 1995, I was lucky enough to be invited as a guest chef at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok. I brought my sous chef and pastry chef with me, and for two weeks we toured the temples and markets of the city, seeing (and eating) many unusual and beautiful things. I vividly remember the profusion of flowers and the tasty and sometimes strange street food (such as the edible insect cart, which we avoided), and the gradual change from barely tolerating hot chiles to actually craving them on a daily basis. When I returned, my sous chef, Ronald Carr, helped me develop this dish to showcase the new flavors that I’d fallen for. This substantial salad could be served for lunch, dinner, or as a first course before something light, such as grilled fish. To lighten up the salad, you can add an extra handful of shredded cabbage or even more of the crispy noodles (keep in mind that the salad will be a bit drier if you do this). Small or medium shrimp work just fine in this recipe, and they’re less expensive than larger varieties.

This rich and smoky salad has become, hands down, the most popular dish on the menu at Bayona. I think it’s owing to the combination of textures and flavors, and the way they all mingle together and complement one another. There are several components to this salad, and that’s why it’s so satisfying. The good news is that many of these steps can be done in advance. The trickiest technique is cold-smoking the quail, which infuses it with natural smoky flavor without cooking it. That means when we fry the batter-dipped bird at the last minute, the result is both crispy and juicy. At the restaurant we make a stock with the smoked quail wings and use it to enrich the dressing, but this is not necessary. If pears are not in season, apples make a good substitute.

This irresistible salad became a signature at Savoir Faire. I coat the oysters with bread crumbs flavored with sage, rosemary, and parsley—and strongly encourage you to use all three. The smell alone will have your mouth watering. Fried in this coating, the oysters take on a rich flavor that suggests stuffing. Placed atop a fresh spinach salad, the dish becomes a playful twist on Oysters Rockefeller (raw oysters on the half shell, topped with a spinach-bread crumb mixture and baked). The Rosemary-Dijon Dressing (which should be made first so the salad will come together easily at the end) is one you’ll make again and again—it’s delicious on just about any mix of greens.

This is another dish that Ashley taught me. It’s too good not to share. Cornmeal-coated oysters are crisp-fried and placed atop a salad of black-eyed peas, scallions, and red peppers. A chiffonade of spinach and celery root adds additional flavor and crunch (but it’s the killer sweet, hot Jalapeño Dressing that steals the show). Feel free to add a few more handfuls of greens to make this a more substantial salad. This is a great lunch salad with a fat wedge of corn bread and a cold beer.

Taste a portion of the poblano. Some are spicier than others, so adjust the amount accordingly. If it’s really spicy you might want to add more mayo.

I have never been able to do the cold-pizza-for-breakfast thing, but there are some foods I just love eating cold the day after—fried or barbecued chicken, for instance. Happily, my local grocery store does rotisserie chicken, either plain or barbecue, and on weeknights when homework is taking forever, I am grateful for this easy main course salad that the kids will actually dig into. For my husband and me, it’s all about the creamy, spicy poblano dressing. But for the kids it’s strictly ranch—no cilantro, please! For a more substantial meal, serve this with corn bread or, better yet, jalapeño corn bread (add chopped pickled jalapeños to your favorite recipe).

All along the Gulf Coast, crab is plentiful and almost cheap during the summer. It has a luxurious flavor, but it’s still light, and in this ceviche-like salad the lime and basil enhance the warm-weather flavors. The salty capers are a good foil for the sweetness of the crab and carrots. Serve this refreshing combination on lettuce leaves, as described below, or in a parfait or martini glass, garnished with a wedge of lime and some tortilla chips.

Just in case you’ve been wondering what to do with that walnut oil that someone gave you for Christmas …